I didn't.

Should I or shouldn't I..

I love being on my own but god damn it I want a home again.

Here is what I see: a room with a boy who is big and strong and gentle and warm, sturdy-handed and quirky. There are big windows with white curtains and it is sunny outside. Outside of these windows is a big garden. The sun streams into the room through deciduous trees and lights everything just right. There are knick-knacks everywhere, little toys and things, the walls are painted a deep blue, and there are big pictures on the walls, photographs, blurry ones. In this room there is a canopy bed with white gauzy curtains, lots of warm blankets and a down comforter, all white, and we are in this bed, and we are talking about everything and anything. I stretch my legs up towards the ceiling and touch my toes, extend back down and roll the covers back over me and lay on my stomach, rest my cheek in the palm of my hand sitting up on my elbow and we smile at each other. All of our favorite music is playing. We take polaroids. We kiss deeply, kiss soft on each other's necks and then bite quick and hard. We cuddle and roll around and laugh loudly. We sleep. He rubs my back with his hand, not like a massage, just running his hand back and forth, back and forth up and down my back. If I am on my side, he does this to my waist, and because it tickles I roll around screeching with laughter, and he rolls with me and laughs as well. We make a blanket fort in this bed. We make a nest with all of the blankets and lay curled up in it. We don't bicker and I don't worry and we listen to each other and work together. We take time. He lets me take his picture as much as I want. I don't get jealous or clingy. It is balanced between us. We are in love completely, and this is home. Nothing can penetrate this room, it is always our safe haven to return to, exerting its healing and comforting powers and taking over whatever pains the outside world might try to inflict upon us. In this room, and even outside of this room, we are half-and-half, we work as one and we work as two. But no matter what happens there is always we and us and together and this room.

I feel that familiar restlessness pulling at me again, the one that left when he came along and we settled into each other. It is a nagging feeling that won't go away. I want to run away all the time now, my mom goes to the bathroom in the grocery store and my mind can't help but entertain how easy it would be to just disappear. You see I had gotten very used to having an anchor, something I loved holding me in place, something I could always return to and now that is gone. I am quite scared of this new freedom but this is also the first time I have realized the gift that having no one is and this is the first time I may be able to take advantage of it (although I have no idea how to do this or what I would get from it). I have nothing to cling to and no idea what I should do. I suppose this is what growing is. I am a timid vine creeping up the wall towards the sun..

I am going to not be afraid. Things are going to change. I am going to make this a good year.